


blow your mind

by lookingatstars



Category: Justin Bieber (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingatstars/pseuds/lookingatstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's band doesn't win a VMA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blow your mind

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently Bieber/everyone is a thing I'm into so...
> 
> Thanks to Laura for beta/hand holding!

It starts as a joke, like most things with Niall do, but if anyone ever asks, Zayn has it on record that he had permission before shagging Justin Bieber.

-

“He’s looking fit lately. You wouldn’t mind, right? If I did?” 

Niall huffs out a laugh, nudging Zayn in the shoulder. “Of course I wouldn’t mind, you twat. I’m not…into him like that. He’s just.” Niall eyes him, shaking his head. “He’s completely straight, anyway. He’d never give it to you.”

Zayn shrugs. “Probably right, mate.”

-

The thing is, Zayn finds, Justin Bieber _isn’t_ completely straight. 

Zayn’s standing in Justin Bieber’s mansion, holding a drink with a bunch of other famous people and god, America is so _strange_ sometimes. It’s the weirdest unofficial VMA after party ever, but Zayn’s not complaining, not really. He’s got a stiff drink to ease the ache of losing both their nominations. 

He’s almost five drinks in when he gets outrageously bored and decides to wander around, texting Danny as he walks through the halls. Justin’s house is huge and obviously professionally decorated, but it also has a strange homey sort of feel to it. He pushes a door open at the end of the hall. It’s a huge bedroom, covered in light greens and Zayn closes the door and sets his drink aside before sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s a bit pissed, even more homesick and the bed feels really nice. He starts a Frank Ocean song on his phone, playing softly as he lies down, stretching out. The music from the party is leaking in through the door, but Zayn tunes it out, relaxes into the bed instead. 

He grips at the sheets, threading them through his fingers, groaning at how soft they feel. He really needs to invest in new sheets when he gets home. 

“Bro.” 

Zayn sits up quickly, stumbling to his feet, eyeing Justin awkwardly. “Sorry mate, I. I was a bit tired? Or something.” 

Justin grins, shutting the door behind him and leaning into it. “No worries, man. Are you that lonely, though? That you were trying to get it on with my bed?”

Oh god. Justin Bieber is _mocking_ him. He laughs, a blush creeping up on his face. “I was just admiring the thread count.” 

He watches Justin nod and take a step forward. “Right,” says Justin, moving past Zayn to sit on his bed. “Take a seat. Relax. I don’t bite, unless you’re into that sort of thing.” After a beat. “Frank Ocean? You like him?”

“Yeah. Love him. He’s brilliant,” says Zayn, smiling at Justin as he sits down next to him. Justin’s got a bright red snapback on backwards. Zayn watches him take it off and run his hands through his hair, meeting Zayn’s smile.

“He’s so sick, man. I worked with him a few times.”

Zayn’s aware he’s eyes are wide, a look of awe on his face. “Wait, what. Are you serious? That’s. Wow, man, that’s amazing.”

Justin nods, smiling again and Zayn could absolutely get used to seeing that. His lips are pink and shiny, almost like he’s wearing lipgloss and Zayn wants to lean forward and taste them, but stops himself, stays seated and quiet. “For sure, bro. He’s gay you know,” says Justin, shrugging, “I mean, I’m not outing him ‘cause everyone knows that.”

Zayn grins and nods, biting his lip. “Yeah, I read his letter. A few times, actually.” More like a _million_ , but who’s counting? 

“Me too,” Justin says, lying back on the bed. Zayn tilts his head to look at him and swallows hard. Justin’s layed out, his tank top running up, revealing a small sliver of skin. He runs his fingers over the waistband of his pants, smiling at Zayn. “I like your tattoos. Can I see the one on your collarbone?”

Okay, Zayn’s pretty sure Justin Bieber is hitting on him. Almost positive. He doesn’t comment though, just leans down, hovering over Justin, their legs brushing. “It means be true to who you are.”

“Really?” Justin asks, bringing his fingers up to Zayn’s tattoo, tracing the ink slowly with his index finger. “I like that.” Zayn nods, eyes fixed on Justin’s lips as Justin darts his tongue out, wetting them. Justin doesn’t let his hand drop like Zayn thinks he might, instead he just curls it around the back of Zayn’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. 

Zayn groans into it, crawling on top of Justin, his legs falling on either side of him. Justin fists his hand in Zayn hair, tugs on it, touch less than gentle. “I saw you staring at me all night,” Justin says, breathing into his lips.

Zayn shakes his head, hand splayed in Justin’s chest. “I wasn’t.” He might have been. Justin just laughs at him and shrugs, fitting their lips together again. 

Zayn can’t help but grind down against Justin, hands roaming over his chest, groaning into the kiss. Justin grins as he flips them over, pinning Zayn’s hands above his head, falling in between his legs. “Stay there,” he says before moving away, reaching over to grab a bottle of lube and a condom from his nightstand. Zayn looks at him with wide eyes, but doesn’t protest, just keeps his hands in place. 

Justin is _straddling_ him, smiling down at him with those pink, wet lips and Zayn can’t help but arch into him, whimpering. Justin laughs, leaning down to kiss him, murmuring into it. “I could get you to beg.” 

Zayn’s not going to deny it, not with Justin on top of him. Because the reality is Justin _could_ and if Justin doesn’t do something soon, Zayn might start begging. He doesn’t have to because Justin pops open Zayn’s trousers, reaching inside his pants to palm his cock, licking at his lips. “You’re already leaking,” says Justin, running his thumb over the head of Zayn’s dick. 

He swallows hard, pressing into Justin’s hand, his eyes falling shut. His hands are still above his head, right where Justin left them and Zayn, Zayn’s about to get fucked. “Please,” he breathes out, blinking open his eyes to meet Justin’s. 

Justin doesn’t ask questions after that. He crawls off the bed in a rush, undoing his jeans, pushing them down with his pants. Zayn watches, eyes tracing Justin’s body, swallowing hard as he undresses. Zayn pushes down his trousers and pants, tossing them to the floor. “Don’t start without me,” says Justin, a smirk firmly in place. He climbs back onto the bed, pushing Zayn’s thighs apart, reaching for the lube. Zayn watches him pop open the tube, squeezing it onto his fingers and lathering it up before bringing his fingers to Zayn’s hole, rubbing against it. 

Zayn bites down on his lip, smiling up at Justin. “Cold,” he murmurs, burying his face against his arm. Justin doesn’t answer, just presses inside of him, slowly starting to finger fuck him, opening him up. He adds a second finger, scissoring them inside of Zayn and Zayn can’t help but cry out, reaching for Justin’s idle hand on his hip, clinging to it. “That feels—“

He trails off into a groan when Justin hits his spot, arching up into his fingers. Zayn wants it deeper, harder, faster, but Justin withdraws his fingers, wiping them on the sheets. He thinks about protesting, but before he can Justin’s rolling on a condom and pushing inside of him. Zayn curls his fingers in the sheets, the blunt pressure almost too much, but he takes it, swallowing down a moan. Justin’s hands curl deeper into Zayn’s hips, barely giving him time to adjust before he’s fucking him, hips snapping into Zayn.

Zayn chokes out a breath, arching off of the bed and into Justin. Justin smiles down at him, running a thumb over his hip as he fucks him into the bed, his thrusts anything but gentle.

“Please, I need--” Zayn breaks off, whining, twisting into the sheets, barely registering the music in the background. Zayn tries, but he can’t find the words, not with Justin fucking him, hard and fast, his fingers digging into Zayn’s hips. 

Justin wraps his hand around Zayn’s cock, tugging on it as he fucks him and just like that, Zayn’s coming, arching off of the bed into Justin, whimpering his name over and over, spilling onto his own stomach. Justin pulls out just as Zayn finishes and tugs the condom off, jerking himself over Zayn, groaning as him comes, painting Zayn’s chest. He huffs out a breathless laugh, smiling down at Zayn, shrugging. “Looks like you’re a winner after all.”

Cheeky bastard. Zayn smiles back.


End file.
